


When My Devil Rises: A Herostuck Flashback

by mrmercer



Series: Herostuck Flashbacks [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Cults, Demons, Fights, Gen, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:52:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7448491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrmercer/pseuds/mrmercer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a short story for my variant of Dave's bro in a Herostuck rp, which should show readers just how he got his powers and became the blue devil he is today. Title comes from the Man With A Mission song of the same name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When My Devil Rises: A Herostuck Flashback

Dorian Strider follows the two green-clothed men through the door to the mansion. The walls and carpet are lavish shades of green, clearly of very high quality: no doubt meant to impress newcomers, though the effect is mitigated by the clear lack of ornamentation in the hallway. Dorian pushes his red hair back, a habitual action he does when he nears the end of a job: this job isn't going to bring him any closer to finding his sensei's killer, but all he needs to do here is find out what this cult is doing and his employer will pay generously. "As you can see," one of the masked men says, leading them down the hallways, "our organisation is very profitable. We get a lot of customers coming in, asking to take spare produce from our spells off our hands." Dorian can guess pretty easily what this produce is: the rumours about this cult lean heavily towards the concept of human sacrifice, though none say what is done with the bodies afterwards. It seems that they're sold off on the black market, for all manner of reasons. Dorian decides to stop thinking about this: he's already regretting not bringing his katana with him, and dwelling on his possible fate if he fails this isn't going to help him in the slightest.  
"This is a very nice building." Dorian says, putting on the guise of the friendly and impressionable bartender Marcel Walsh. "I can't wait to see more of it."  
The man chuckles. "Oh, you will in time. Ah, here's our first stop." He ushers the group into a changing room. It's even more ostentatious than the hallways, with glittering lights and welcomingly antique furniture throughout. "You'll find your uniform in the wardrobe. Let us know when you've changed and are ready to continue."

"Yes, of course." Dorian replies eagerly. Opening the wardrobe reveals a long coat and mask, much like the ones the others were wearing but blue instead of green. _Probably indicative of a lower rank_ , Dorian thinks as he puts them on. The clothes feel perfectly natural on him, with the mask not obscuring his senses at all. He feels more at ease now: he doesn't like having his eyes exposed, and he had to leave his distinctive sunglasses at home. Seeing nothing else of importance in the room, Dorian steps back out into the hallway and indicates his readiness to continue. "By the way," he says as they move on, "What do we need the masks for?"  
"Oh, some of our spells produce a lot of ethereal substances: the masks make sure we don't inhale anything harmful."  
"I see." Dorian says, voice filled with wonder. "What kind of spells can you perform?"  
"All kinds of things, really." The man responds. "We primarily provide charms of fortune and luck for those who come to us, but we also supply services such as healing or even speaking to the dead."  
_No doubt payed for with the blood of others,_ Dorian thinks. However, what he actually says is "Incredible! You guys really are powerful, aren't you?"  
The man chuckles once more. "We can't do anything that other people can't do. We just know a little more than most, and can work together to produce more powerful effects. Anyway, this will be our next stop."

The group enter a large circular room. There is a long rectangular altar in the middle of the room, with drains in the top leading within. The room is lined with candles, burning green, and glowing runes of this same shade cover the walls, floor and ceiling. Ten green-clad people turn to look at Dorian as he enters, and the men behind him forcibly restrain him. Dorian tries to break free, but it's no use: his fighting style is focused more on dexterity than strength, and he has no skills that match an unarmed situation. He's thrust onto the altar and tied down. Dorian continues struggling as the one who led him here pulls out a knife. The man begins chanting, and the others soon follow suit. The man brings the knife down on Dorian's chest.

A blue light flares from the tip of the knife as soon as it makes contact with Dorian, stopping it dead in its tracks. The ropes tying Dorian down snap as hundreds of spectral blue swords erupt from around him, flying throughout the room and skewering the cultists where they stand. All except the one: the lead cultist, who remains standing with his knife in hand. Dorian gets up from the altar, a katana forming in his hands, as he rushes towards the man. He appears to erect some kind of green barrier, but the sword cuts through it effortlessly, slicing the man neatly in two. In the span of five seconds the room has been coated with blood and guts, and not a soul aside from Dorian remains. As he is leaving the room he sees a mirror on the door: his hair, once a brilliant red, has now faded to white. Taking off his mask reveals that his once green eyes have made the same change. And almost instinctively, Dorian knows what has happened to him. _So, this is the power of a half-demon, huh?_ He can feel the power thrumming through him, and whle he won't be having any displays of power quite as impressive as this one, nor will the katana remain as sharp as this, he knows that he has become something beyond human. Dorian leaves the room, stepping over the bisected corpse of the other half-breed. He heads out of the mansion and back to his apartment: he has some research to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this one isn't as good as my last work. I think it will do, though.


End file.
